


Cold & Sweet

by fullsunyoul



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Yeah you read that right, i'm not doing so hot, ice cream parlour au, that is subject to change, this is what we like to call crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullsunyoul/pseuds/fullsunyoul
Summary: Aziraphale gets perfect grades, attends church and works at the ice cream parlour in the middle of town.Crowley is bets friend with a girl named War and has a track record the size of a small child so we don't really have to explain why he's not doing the best.One encounter could change both of them but is it really for the better?---this is low key only for my best friend, bitch mcgee, but feel free to read it.





	Cold & Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/gifts).



> it's a mental breakdown.
> 
> [off key kazoo while the soviet theme blares faintly]
> 
> in my google docs this fic is formatted in bright teal and 12 point comic sans so you KNOW this shit is good.
> 
> i'm sorry, mr. geiman.

Aziraphale hooked his hand around his bedroom door frame and leaned into the hallway, shirt halfway on. 

“Gabriel! Have you seen my keys?” He shouted into the hallway, yanking down his shirt with his free hand. 

“Maybe use your eyes, dipshit. Uriel put them in the key bin after he moved your gay car.” Gabriel yelled back from his position on the couch, fingers flying across his keyboard (no doubt telling his gross friends about his weird gay brother).

“I literally looked in there four minutes ago but okay, thanks for nothing, asshat.” Aziraphale flipped off the air and pulled himself back into his room, replanting both feet on the ground. He snatched his hat off his dresser and spun around, eyes scanning for his horrendous pink apron. He'd thrown it somewhere in the junk pile that was his room after his last shift, not wanting to look at it after five hours of wearing the damn thing. It was hanging precariously off a pile of books that were stacked a little too high for comfort and Aziraphale yanked the strings to drag to closer to him. The pile of books wobbled a bit to the left but didn't topple and he let out a sigh of relief. He backed away from the pile slowly, until he hit the stairway that leads to the attic door. He spun around and clambered down the stairs at breakneck speed, stopping at the bottom to give himself a pat down.

Hair? Yes

Shirt? Yes.

Pants? Yes.

Shoes? Yes.

Apron? Yes.

Hat? Yes.

Keys? No.

“Uriel!” Aziraphale shouted into the house, his room the only one accessible through this hallway. He heard a faint groan as his sister pushed himself off her bed and the sounds of her steps as she ran up the stairs. 

“Do you have my keys?” Aziraphale jabbed a finger at his sister as she came up the last few steps.

“No, I put them in the key bowl in the foyer.” She turned to go down the stairs again.

“They're not in the key bowl in the foyer, Uriel, I checked before I came up here. Can you check your pockets?” Aziraphale wanted to smack the fuck out of her. 

“Fine, whatever, they're not gonna be there.” Uriel shoved her hand in her hoodie pocket and her face turned to a guilty expression as she pulled the lime green key ring out of her pocket. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale muttered through gritted teeth as he snatched his keys out of her hands, shoving past her to get down the stairs. He had to walk down the street a bit to get where he was allowed to park his car and he was already four minutes behind schedule. He shoved his key into the lock of his old beat up Toyota and flung the door open, sliding into the passenger seat. He started the car as he bucked his seatbelt, which too a lot more coordination than Aziraphale initially planned for and he missed the ignition twice. The engine stalled for a few seconds before sputtering to life and Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh as he put the car in gear and very carefully backed out of his neighbourhood. Children didn't care about cars, if they wanted to ride their bikes then they were going to ride their bikes. He pulled out of the neighbourhood and onto the back road that leads straight to his work. Aziraphale stopped at the stop sign and plugged his phone in, a song started to play softly out of his one working speaker and he turned it up. It was a very lovely song about what Aziraphale interpreted to be loneliness. It made him feel happy.

* * *

Aziraphale pulled into the parking lot next to the ice cream parlour parking lot and navigated his way around the long drive thru line. He went to pull into his normal parking space when a lanky little demon on a skateboard came whizzing through the spot, barely missing Aziraphale’s spoiler. Aziraphale laid on the horn and then kid slipped off his skateboard, crash landing in the bush next to his shitty death machine of a car. Aziraphale flung open his driver's side door and stalked over to the bush, intending on giving the hoodlum on the skateboard a stern talking to. He was probably some trouble maker, dressed in those horrible spiky clothes and Aziraphale would have none of that nonsense. 

Instead he found a skinny boy about his age lounging in the bush as if he meant to end up there. Aziraphale opened his mouth but nothing came out and he ended up gaping like a fish. The boy was wearing ripped skinny jeans, a sturdy black leather jacket and low cut shoes with one of those ugly ripped shirts the media has been raving about for months. His hair was an odd shade of very bright red and he had on a pair of really dark sunglasses that glinted in the sunlight. He pulled down the sunglasses to peer at Aziraphale with unnaturally yellow and snake-like eyes. He was kinda cute in a lousy reptile way. 

What Aziraphale wanted to say was: 

“Hey, dipshit? Why the fuck are you skating around the parking lot like a lunatic with no sense of direction? There are cars here.” 

But he was nothing if not a good person so what he actually said was:

“Need a hand?” Because he was a nice person and he did almost hit the poor stick with his car. He held out his hand and the boy wrapped his hand around it, pulling Aziraphale down into the bush with him. The platinum blonde boy found his voice, his really mean voice, and managed to splutter out a litany of very mean things that were muffled by the boys very bony rib cage. He pushed off the ground and sat back on the curb, legs scrunched up beneath him. 

“Excuse me, you  _ fiend _ ! I was offering you help up after  _ you  _ almost caused a dent in my car!” His mother had always raised him to be a level headed person but this kid was one of the most audacious people he'd ever met and he didn't want to admit that he liked it. He lived in a medium sized town in a forgotten state in the middle of America, and everyone here was  _ so  _ utterly boring. Even his mum, whom he loved very much, was a very boring and monotonous person. 

“Oh, well, I didn't know I was dragging Shakespeare into a bush. Who calls people ‘fiend’ anymore?” The boy scoffed and pushed himself up on his elbows, shoving his glasses back into place.

“Me, you  _ fiend _ ! I don’t know who you think you are but I’m almost late to work.” Aziraphale pushed himself up and off the ground, dusting the dirt and leaves off his clothes, shaking his head and showering the boy beneath him in leaves. Aziraphale spun around and began to fret over his car. He heard the boy clear his throat and he spun back around.

“Aren't you going to help me up? After all, you are the reason I am in this bush.” He was smirking from his position in the bush and Aziraphale wanted to smack the expression off his cute little dumb face.

“No. I offered to help you up and you yanked me into the bush like the heathen you are.” Aziraphale brushed off his clothes against to show his point despite the fact that he was clean. The boy popped up in the middle of the bush, brushing himself off very badly. He was still covered in leaves and dirt. Aziraphale was weary of the boy so he kept a safe distance. He watched as the other teen shook his whole body like a dog, flinging leaves and dirt all around him, before brushing down his legs. 

“Well then let me make it up to you? What do you say you meet me at the burger joint across town tomorrow at 4 and I’ll buy you an early dinner. Penance for being in your way.” He pulled his glasses off his face and Aziraphale saw that his unnaturally yellow snake eyes were just funny contact lenses the boy wore, probably for attention. Well, he certainly had Azriaphale’s attention, that's for  _ damn  _ sure. The boy put his glasses back on, using his middle finger to push them back into place as he held out his other hand towards Aziraphale.

“My names Anthony but I prefer to be called Crowley.” Aziraphale grasped the boys hand wearily, afraid of being pulled into the bush again. 

“Crow-lee? Like the lovely little birds?” Aziraphale loved birds, always had but he'd never name himself after one. That would be silly and a Terra was  _ never _ silly when others could see. His mother said that was uncouth, despite the fact that she was quite a silly woman herself. The boy,  _ Crowley, _ nodded enthusiastically and shook Aziraphale’s hand twice before dropping it and Aziraphale was almost,  _ almost,  _ sad to let go. There was something about this boy that was just wonderful and new to Aziraphale. Crowley jammed his foot into his skateboard, making it pop up and he grasped it before it could fall down again. He looked Aziraphale up and down in a decidedly  _ not friend  _ way that made the blonde teen flush.

“What's your name, then? Michael?” Crowley cocked his eyebrow and Aziraphale snorted. 

“No, that's my sisters name, my name is Aziraphale.” Crowley eyebrow furred deeper and a frown appeared in his face.

“That's you sisters na- nevermind, Pace’s tomorrow at four, right?” 

“How do I know you're not going to kill me, Crowley?” It was a valid question, Crowley  _ was  _ a skateboard toting stick who Aziraphale did almost hit with his car. Those are good precursors to murderer and murdered. 

“You're too pretty to kill, angel.” Crowley winked from behind his glasses and Aziraphale flushed, coughing to cover a very dignified and powerful totally-not-squeak squeak. 

“Oh, well, that's very nice of you to say, but I must be getting to work.” He rubbed the back of his neck and practically bolted behind his car, yanking open the passenger side door and pulling out his hat and apron before making a break for the store. He heard a small chuckle behind him and the sound of wheels hitting cement. Crowley was gone but Aziraphale didn't really like that. He was an interesting fellow.

* * *

Aziraphale leaned over the counter and typed his number in the till, clocking in. It printed out a little receipt with his name and the time on it and he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can on his way to the back. He tossed his phone and keys on the back table and slipped on his ugly apron and hat, brushing the little bit of hair underneath the brim of the latter. 

“Yo, Azria!” A voice came from behind him and he spun around to be face to face with his co worker Newt. 

“Ah, hello, Newton. How are you today?” He tied his apron around his waist and nodded to the skinny, nerdy boy.

“Who was that boy you were on top of in the parking lot?” Newt’s innocent question was anything but. Aziraphale’s face began to heat up.

“I w-was not on top of him! I fell. That is all.” Aziraphale stuttered but regained his confidence. Newt just snickered.

  
“Wait until I tell Anathema about this. She's gonna be so mad she missed it.” Anathema was Newt’s girlfriend of almost 6 years, both teens going on 18 in the fall. They technically weren't co workers when they started dating so the owners, a very nice couple named Aurthur and Deirdre, let their relationship slide. They were actually quite mean to each other at work so Azirphale often forgot they were to be engaged come Anathema’s birthday. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Newt’s comment and walked to the sink to wash his hands. Night shift was  _ always  _ fun.


End file.
